Gemotions

The classroom door felt heavy, thick, and not at all the color she remembered. Margaret hesitated, hand hovering over the doorknob. Inside, the noise of children's laughter, something she would normally welcome, sounded strangely jarring. Mrs. Davies. The same one who had once corrected her grammar, scolded her for talking in class, and made her feel like a failure.

A deep thrumming began in her ears. She felt a compulsion to run, to disappear before the inevitable moment of recognition. But her son was inside. Waiting for her.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Okay," she murmured to the empty hallway, her voice barely a whisper. She pushed the door open, the sight of the familiar name on the whiteboard hitting her like a physical blow. The room twisted, the colors becoming strangely vibrant and unreal.